


Crawl In

by Sarah Problem (SarahProblem)



Series: Come With Me [12]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Complete, Established Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Married Couple, Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahProblem/pseuds/Sarah%20Problem
Summary: A collection of scenes from Jim and Bones' time at the Academy, bookended between two scenes set just after the end of "Building Blocks".





	Crawl In

Crawl In

 by Sarah Problem

 

 

  

Twelve Days After the Accident in " _Building Blocks_ "

 

Jim Kirk shifted restlessly on the biobed. He was stiff, and the new skin itched at times, but he really didn't see why he had to stay in Medbay. If he didn't think Bones would have a fit, and delay him in getting back to the bridge, he would have grabbed the ugly and uncomfortable medical robe, thrown it over his medical drape, and walked back to their cabin without telling anyone. But the biobed would signal his escape. He probably wouldn't make it to the Medbay door except at a run.

_Hell, at this point I'd take a bed in the triage area. Back here in the private rooms, cut off from the bridge computer, there's shit all to do. I'm full up with movies, and my hands aren't even up to those manual vid-games we have in stock. At least then I'd have the other doctors and nurses to talk to. Maybe visit with some of the other patients._

If he wanted to recover at home, there was no choice but to have a showdown and shamelessly push his husband's buttons.

They were in the middle of the Alpha-Beta shift change, and McCoy would soon be off duty. He would eat dinner in Jim's room, as he had his earlier meals, but Jim felt impatient and frustrated.

He pressed the call button.

"Jim?" McCoy was there in less than a minute. "What's up?"

"I'm going home with you," Jim said with confidence, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. "And you won't stop me."

McCoy's eyebrow raised in surprise. Then he narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms and adjusted his stance. He was ready to stand his ground.

"Oh, I won't?" McCoy growled. "I think I have a whole ship who'll back up my orders. Including the Acting Captain."

"Bones," Jim said, slipping off of the bed. His feet made slapping noises on the cold metal floor as he walked slowly to McCoy. "I am well enough to walk, to go to the 'fresher by myself. I only need a little help with dressing. My new skin is fine, it's not going to fall off now. I've been doing my exercises and I can now sit for almost an hour before my back and shoulders get tired. I've eaten all the food you've put before me, some of which was pretty nasty by the way, and I've taken all my medications like a good boy."

He came up to McCoy, who was eyeing him warily and waiting for the kill shot. Then, putting one hand on McCoy's crossed arms, Jim leaned forward, and in a whisper next to McCoy's left ear, let him have it.

"I want to go home and sleep with my husband. I  _miss_  him."

Under his hand, he could feel McCoy's resolve weaken.

"Jim, there could still be complications," McCoy said with a sigh. "Spots we still want to watch."

"Which you can do tonight, next to me," Jim said softly, looking into McCoy's eyes. "We  _both_  need this, you  _know_ we do. Ask M'Benga. If he agrees with me, then I can come home with you."

McCoy took a minute and Jim could see him fighting with himself. Then he shook his head. "You've already asked him, haven't you?"

Jim smiled.

"You're going to make me grey," McCoy accused.

"I'd like you grey."

"Fine," McCoy muttered, then said over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "I'll pretend like I don't know what the answer is and ask him anyway."

Jim turned back to his bed and the clothing locker by it, to pull out his clothes and have them ready for when McCoy came back to take him home. When McCoy returned, he didn't even have to say anything. Jim had won this round.

The trip seemed to take forever. But, finally, Jim was home. They ate quietly, sat for a while on the sofa while watching some news-vids from Earth. McCoy was propped up in the corner, while Jim sat between his legs and relaxed against him. McCoy took Jim's hands, one at a time, and massaged them gently. Then he worked on Jim's shoulders. By the time the they needed to go to bed, Jim was so relaxed he would have been happy to sleep on the couch, and on McCoy, all night.

But the bed was welcomed, and when Jim carefully settled against McCoy, he realized he had something he wanted to ask before he slipped away. He hadn't wanted to ask it in Medbay. Now, having crawled in together, holding each other in the dark, was a good time.

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"Was I your first guy?"

He could feel McCoy stiffen. "What do you mean?"

Jim sighed. "Was I your first  _male_  lover?"

"Hmm..." McCoy drew out his response, as if stalling for time. "I suppose so."

"You _suppose_?" Jim laughed. "There's some doubt about that?"

"No, there isn't." McCoy sighed. "Was it noticeable?"

"No," Jim said honestly. "Guess you were a natural, when it came to men. Or being a doctor gave you a head start over other newbies. Why didn't you say something?"

"I was impatient," McCoy admitted. "I didn't want you to slow down, or take extra time being careful. I wanted you then and there. And I was kind of afraid you wouldn't be interested in someone so inexperienced. Some people would rather partner up for "benefits" with someone who had some skills."

"I'm not them," Jim said. "You could have told me. I really should have--"

"No. It was exactly right for me, just the way it was."

"Well, you're my first too," Jim said, smiling against McCoy's shoulder.

"How so?"

"I'm pretty sure you're my first virgin," Jim said with a laugh. "Imagine that."

"Really?"

"Honestly."

"Well, I guess we must be perfect for each other, then."

"Apparently."

Then they both drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

~~~~~Intermission~~~~~

 

***

Starfleet Academy

Day: 053

***

 

Leonard McCoy fought to keep up with Jim as the last of the close-it-out crowd milled through the exit of the bar. He and Jim had made a night of it, staying through last call and now had to fight the early morning crowds to the bus stop. Leonard McCoy was a little tipsy. Actually, he was a bit more than just tipsy, but he could still walk on his own, while Jim was far gone enough to need a little careful steering.

Usually, when he and Jim made it a night, and actually left together, it was the other way around.

It had actually been an enjoyable birthday. He'd gotten a comm from his Pa early in the afternoon, Jim had offered to buy him dinner anywhere he wanted, and then they'd hit the bars. Jim had found two lovely ladies to spend the evening at their table, but McCoy hadn't been in the mood to make either of them a hook-up. Especially after they both signaled clear interest in Jim. McCoy had been surprised, and a bit pleased, that Jim had turned down all their subtle offers once McCoy had made it clear that a foursome, or even a twosome, wasn't in his plans for the rest of the evening.

He'd been divorced a little more than two months now. Turning twenty-eight didn't mean he was ready to move on. Not yet.

Once out the door and through the crowd, McCoy caught up with Jim, who was using the building to keep himself propped up. He gave McCoy a lopsided smile.

"Where to next?"

"Home," McCoy said, tired but happily mellow.

"Aw, c'mon, Bones. There're lots of places still open," Jim insisted. "We've got plenty of time to get you laid. Meet someone who does if for you."

"I'm fine," McCoy said, watching as the crowd moved toward the bus now pulling up.

"Everyone should have sex on their birthday," Jim insisted. “Bad luck if you don’t.”

"It hasn't been my birthday for hours." McCoy shrugged. "Guess I missed my chance."

"True," Jim said lifting a finger and nodding, which threatened to upset his balance. "Past midnight, but it's still  _night_. There's still time."

"What, in less than an hour?" McCoy grabbed Jim's arm and tried to lead him to the bus that was quickly filling up. "I think it's best just to head home and sleep."

"Oh." Jim checked the time. "Forgot. Early sunrise in the summer." He then looked at McCoy with a grin as something came to him. "There's an alley over there. I give  _great_  blowjobs."

McCoy pulled him to the back of the crowd, hoping there'd still be room and they didn't have to wait for the next bus. Cabs were expensive this far across town.

"Sorry, Kid. I don't do drunks," he said kindly.

Jim scrunched up his face in confusion and planted his feet, stopping their progress. "Why? I've been drunk  _lots_ of times and people did me. Or I did them."

"Maybe so," McCoy said, as a wash of protectiveness swept over him. "But  _not_  with me. My last birthday wish is to get home  _before_  I have to carry you."

Jim shrugged loosely, swaying a bit. "Fine. Your loss."

 _It is,_ McCoy thought with a bit of regret.  _It sucks to have to be the mature one and think ahead._

The bus was really crowded, but they made it on.

 

 

 

***

Starfleet Academy

Day: 153

***

 

Jim Kirk hunkered down under his covers, feeling bone tired but restless. The room was dark, with the play of the widescreen flickering around the room and across their dorm room beds. His roommate, Leonard McCoy, had fallen asleep a while ago. Jim didn't want to wake the guy, as he'd been pretty busy over the last few days of Holiday break. Jim knew his ER shifts were hell, and McCoy needed his sleep. Just after Christmas, the Academy was gearing up for the start of another semester, and that meant people in and out, moving in supplies, getting things ready all across the campus and maintenance areas. Accidents still happened to people, no matter how many safeguards were built into the systems.

Now, at the end of his fifth month at the Academy, his first semester over, Jim had finally felt settled into his new life. Yet at the same time, was a growing feeling of restlessness. Since he'd left home at seventeen, five months was a long time for him to be in one spot. And it hadn't helped that the Academy was deadly quiet with most of the cadets off base for the holidays.

Jim had been relieved, as selfish as it was, that McCoy had chosen to stay during the vacation. Not that he and his father didn't want to spend the holidays together, but David was a doctor as well. Both he and his son had adopted the tradition of working those days, so that someone else could be home with their family. But McCoy and his father had spent every spare minute they could arrange talking on the comm. Face to face. Jim had been pulled into their conversations at times, and enjoyed getting to meet David. Both McCoy's seemed to be satisfied with the arrangement, so Jim didn't feel too guilty about enjoying the fact that he wasn't alone this year.

In the empty hours when McCoy wasn't around, and the library and science labs were closed, he hadn't felt like attending many of the parties the other cadets threw. He'd been to the first few, and they were okay. They just all seemed the same after the second drink. Jim wandered the campus on his own. He enjoyed watching the lights of the city play off the water at night, looking like a close-up version of the night sky that was hidden under the inevitable light pollution. And he enjoyed the cold. Or what they called 'cold' in San Francisco. To Jim, even in the early morning hours in December, it was a mild, spring day compared to some of the weather they'd had in Iowa.

Although, to hear McCoy gripe, you'd think there was six feet of snow and killer wind chills outside.

When Jim had returned from his early hour's venture to the bay, McCoy had been home and asleep. Jim had tried not to disturb him as he prepared for bed. But he knew he couldn't sleep, even though he wanted to. So, he'd turned on his favorite vid, an old-style 2D one, and had made sure the sound wouldn't project across the small room and disturb McCoy. He was most of the way through before McCoy, spread out on his stomach, face mostly buried in a pillow, awoke. He opened one bleary eye in Jim's direction.

"You're watching  _that_  again." McCoy's sleep-thickened voice came through the movie's dialog. He didn't sound annoyed or put out.

Jim winced and held up a hand to pause the movie. "Sorry. Didn't think the light would disturb you. You can't hear it, can you?"

"Nope."

"Oh. I can turn the brightness down," Jim offered.

"Doesn't bother me," McCoy said with a yawn and a sleepy shrug. "Can't see it."

"Oh," Jim said, confused. He realized McCoy really couldn't see the screen from that position. "How do you know what I'm watching?"

McCoy pushed himself up and headed for the 'fresher, lazily scratching at his chest through his official Starfleet Academy sleepwear. Same as the pair everyone learned to wear or get docked for showing up to unexpected midnight drills naked, or worse. "Your birthday's coming up, right?"

Jim didn't answer as McCoy disappeared into the 'fresher.

_He knows the story about the Kelvin. Everyone does. Is that what he means?_

The Kelvin's destruction wasn't memorialized separately, although the names of the dead were inscribed on a 3D plaque outside the main Academy student building. His father's name was on that plaque, in a place of honor. But over the years the Kelvin had just been one in a long list of lost ships and servicemen. The memorial observations for the Kelvin had been rolled into the observations for many of Starfleet's, and humankind's, losses. The Terran observance of First Contact, in April, covered the extremes of space exploration. Usually, the day started with the history of First Contact, and Zefram Cochrane's life story was celebrated. Then, in the evenings, the dead through the years were memorialized. The happy morning celebration morphing into the expression of loss and remembrance of those who'd given their lives to pursue that great frontier. For Jim, in most cases, January 4th was mostly just his birthday. The relevance lost to most once the news-vids had stopped following his, and his family’s, progress.

But this year would be different. At the Academy, in January, many of his classes would start to focus on the Kelvin and what had happened in order to encourage discussions and provide examples for the young cadets. Pike had warned him. There would be dialog and debate over Captain Robau's decisions and actions. And those of his father. All to be dissected by strangers who'd never met George Kirk, or knew anything about him. The thought of so many of his fellow cadets being reminded that they rubbed shoulders with the mythical 'Kelvin Baby' made him uncomfortable. He never knew how to feel, or react, when people brought it up.

Or how to react to those who criticized his father's decisions. How do you defend the thought processes of a man you never met?

McCoy came back into the room, the dim light from the 'fresher cut off after the door closed. He padded to the space between their beds on bare feet.

"How do you know--?" Jim started.

"This time of night? This time of year?" McCoy interrupted gently. "Same movie you've been watching on and off for the last few weeks. Doesn't take a genius to figure out why."

"Oh," Jim said. It was strange to know that someone knew him that well. "Well, I can finish it tomorrow."

McCoy looked up at the screen. "You're almost at the end. Might as well finish it. Want company?"

 _Yes!_ Jim thought, not really knowing what McCoy was offering. It didn't matter. It was McCoy.

"Sure," Jim said casually.

McCoy grabbed his pillow, and turned toward Jim. "Scoot."

Jim did. For a second he wondered if this was about sex. He wasn't really in the mood, but certainly wasn't averse to the idea. They were friends, McCoy was very good looking, and if he was interested Jim would be willing.

But McCoy started to make himself comfortable on top of the cover after tossing his pillow next to Jim's. Giving into a sudden impulse, Jim tugged at the covers, then moved them aside when McCoy stood. "It's cold."

McCoy nodded and slipped in. Jim shifted over a bit more, glad that the beds the Academy supplied were a generous size, and could fit two if they were comfortable with each other. He'd tried out enough of them during hook-ups to know.

With Jim on his back, and McCoy on his side, it wasn't too bad a fit.

"Okay. I'm ready," McCoy said around a yawn, settling down close. He made a warm, friendly wall at Jim's side as he propped his head up so he could see the screen.

Jim started the movie back up and they watched the last twenty minutes of  _Field of Dreams_. During the part where Ray Kinsella meets his father, John Kinsella, as a young man, McCoy stayed silent.

When it was over, McCoy drifted off during the credits, still beside him. Jim tried to remember the last time he'd just slept with someone, with no strings attached and nothing given, taken, or expected. He couldn't remember any.

It was the best night's sleep Jim had had in months.

***

Starfleet Academy

Day: 187

***

 

 

Leonard McCoy stood back from the pool table with the rest of the bar's customers, watching Jim and Abe play. The music from the bar area was still loud, but at least in here McCoy could hear people talk. Drink in hand, stuffed from a good dinner, and comfortable in civilian clothes, McCoy finally felt that he was able to relax.

The semester starting the new year had been tough so far. McCoy was starting his relative physics and propulsive systems classes, and he knew it was going to be hard to keep up. The biological sciences were where his strengths lie, not in math or any of the theoretical departments. Let alone anything mechanical.

True, his classes were all basic or introductory. But he'd started hitting the books hard, so he wouldn't fail. And Jim had been helping him like he helped Jim with the biology stuff.

So far, it'd been working out well for both of them, but it was still early for their second semester. Most of those who were in the same graduation year would be dropping out soon. A lot of those standing around him now were cadets who'd be gone before their third semester.

"C'mon, Abe! You can make that shot!" the kid next to McCoy yelled toward the table. "You can beat his ass!"

McCoy just shook his head and took a sip of his drink as he watched Abe's ball spin but still hit its target. His next ball missed. Jim had to make two to call it a draw and three to win.

 _I should have put some credits down on Jim,_ McCoy thought.  _Teach some of these assholes a lesson._

Jim and Abe were both good and had played each other before. But McCoy knew that Jim was focused and guarded tonight. His Tactical and Warfare classes both had been picking apart the Kelvin tragedy, just as Pike had warned him.

 _It must be hard for him,_ McCoy thought. _To have people arm-chair quarterback everything that had happened. Yeah, his dad usually comes out on top, no matter how the discussion goes. But when it comes to second-guessing anyone's actions, there's always someone who believes that they could have been better, faster, and have come out with the ship and the whole crew alive._

_And Jim has to learn to let it go._

Jim had been silent about what he was feeling, but McCoy could tell that he was angry, upset, and sometimes on the edge of losing his cool. He'd been snapping at McCoy for things that had never bothered him before. Always on the edge of pushing too far and trying to cause an argument over trivia. McCoy knew what was going on, so had taken Jim's harsh words in stride. He hadn't meant them personally.

_It'd be easier if they didn't know who he was. But once the word got out about the Kelvin Baby being in their class, everyone at the Academy knew within thirty seconds. Those that shook off the rumor that Jim was **that** Kirk, and his father was  **that** Kirk, when Jim had first arrived now look at him differently._

_It bugs the shit out of him._

McCoy had always thought Pike's dare to be kind and cruel at the same time. He gave Jim a reason to look forward, instead of backward or just living in the now. But he also saddled Jim with a goal he may not be wired to achieve. What if Jim's true strengths lie elsewhere?

 _I didn't become a doctor because my parents expected me to. No one dared or pushed me to it. I_ **chose**   _it_ _. Maybe Starfleet won't be Jim's thing. It'll be hard on him to wash out._

Just as Jim was lining up his shot, a voice came from the back.

"Yeah! Kirk's not any better at lining up a shot than his old man was! Couldn't even hit the broad side of a monster ship."

The intake of breath around the room was audible. McCoy looked for the loud mouth hidden in the crowd, but couldn't pick him out. He did see Jim stiffen and then back up from the table, stick in hand. Most of those crowding the game glanced at each other.

"What's he talking about?" A young woman behind McCoy whispered to her companion.

" _He's_  the Kelvin Kid,” the man responded.

"No shit?  _That_  Kirk? I thought that kid had died or something."

Everyone was now staring at Jim, who never looked up at those around him. He radiated anger, and McCoy fought to keep his ground and not interfere. There were times Jim needed a wingman and times he didn't. McCoy would have to wait and see how this played out.

_Hold it together, Kid. They're just baiting you. They think they know your weak spot._

Jim stood for a minute, eyes on the table, the pool cue clenched in his fist. Then, suddenly, he went back to the table and, one after the other, sank the three he needed to win.

The crowd watched him silently.

Jim walked toward the cue rack, snagging his drink off of the sideboard on the way. He finished what was left, set it on a table by the rack, and carefully replaced his cue. He turned and looked at Abe, stone-faced.

"Nice game. Thanks." Jim grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and turned to leave. The silent crowd opened for him.

McCoy downed the last of his drink and followed.

It was warm for the tail end of January. McCoy slipped on his jacket as he followed Jim out onto the crowded sidewalk. It wasn't yet eleven, and the streets and businesses were still busy. McCoy gave Jim some space during the first few blocks. Jim never turned around to see if he was there. Hunched up in his jacket, hands in his pockets, Jim just strode forcefully forward.  McCoy had assumed that Jim would either get on the bus or hail a cab, but he did neither. It looked like they'd be walking back to the base.

At four blocks in, McCoy caught up with him and they walked side by side. This far away from the business district, the crowd had thinned out to almost nothing. McCoy walked with him all the way back to the base and their dorm. Neither said a word.

Once inside the dim room, Jim shrugged out of his jacket and threw it on his bed.

"I can't," Jim said, not even looking up as McCoy took his off.

"Can't what?" McCoy asked.

"I can't defend him," Jim said tiredly, standing and staring at the jacket on his bed with his arms crossed.

"What do you mean?" McCoy asked, sitting down on his own bed.

Jim looked over at him. "I believe he did the best he could. I believe that he used all the available options. That he  _wanted_  to be with Mom, when I was born, but knew if he did they'd all be dead. And that the teachers are just trying to make us think about what we'd have done in that situation. Learn from it. Maybe... maybe find other options and put them in place before a ship even leaves the dock."

Jim sighed and shook his head. "But I can't make anyone else believe what I do. No matter what I say, people will think I'm just blinding myself to the truth. That I want to see him in a certain way, so it taints my perspective. Maybe it does. Maybe I do want to be blind to what could have been done better. Maybe he  _could_  have come out of it alive."

"You've been defending him in your classes?" McCoy asked.

"I've made some rebuttal comments to some arguments," Jim said with a tight shrug. "I don't think anyone's mind was changed. But, mostly, I've just been sitting back and listening. I think the teachers were expecting me to charge in and question everything negative they had to say about my father's last few hours. But I haven't."

McCoy shook his head. "You'd spend your life doing that, Jim. Every single person alive can find a way to see it differently than you do. And if you spent all your energy arguing over it, you'd never have time to do anything else."

"But it makes me feel... disloyal when I don't respond," Jim admitted, a guilty look on his face as he glanced at McCoy.

"Jim, I think that the only important opinion is your own. You're not anywhere near being disloyal. And your dad would certainly not want to be your weak spot. That area they can poke to make you dance to their tune. Because, like that asshole tonight, they're going to try to pick and poke at that wound until they see blood. You can't give them that."

"Yeah. I know. But it's hard."

"I'm not doubting that for a second," McCoy admitted. "And I was proud of you for controlling yourself enough to take the win and move on. If you want to be a captain someday you want those people out there to feel that they can trust you. That you won't be pushed or goaded into messing with something bigger than you are, because of pride."

McCoy stood and went up to Jim, putting his hands on his shoulders. McCoy looked him in the eye.

" _Pick_  your battles, Jim." McCoy gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Remember, your father went through the Academy. He'd understand the need to be dispassionate about what happened. I figure he wouldn't want you to waste time defending him to those who don't matter."

Jim studied him, then smiled a little and nodded his head. "Yeah. You're right. He wouldn't. Thanks."

"Don't thank _me_ ," McCoy huffed. He gave Jim's shoulders one last squeeze before he let go. "I have a vested interest in making sure you _don't_  wash out. Another roommate at this point would be a waste of  _my_  time."

"Yeah," Jim said with a bigger smile. "I have the same problem with you sticking around. Too much work to break anyone else in."

McCoy nodded at him. "Good. Ready to call it a night?"

"Yeah. We'd probably better." Jim shrugged.

They got ready to sleep. Jim still looked sad.

Getting into his bed, McCoy had an idea. "Jim, wanna watch your movie again?"

Jim hesitated. "You're probably tired of it."

"I can stand to see it one more time. We can watch it over here this time, so I won't feel guilty if I drift off."

Jim smiled shyly. "Sounds good."

He walked over to McCoy's bed and joined him.

 

***

Starfleet Academy

Day 219

***

McCoy was just coming in as Jim was heading out for the evening. He'd been on his hospital shift, and as soon as he walked in Jim knew something was wrong. McCoy was dressed in worn scrubs, a bag in his hand. Which meant a lot of blood had soaked through his clothing. McCoy had not wanted to put them back on, even after a sonic cleaning at the hospital. His face was ashen and his expression distant.

"Bones?"

Jim put his hand on McCoy's arm, but he didn't look up. He just walked to their recycler and carefully dug his clothing out of the sack, and fed them to the machine one piece at a time. Even the bag went in.

_Someone's died. It was bad and he couldn't save them. Probably a kid._

Jim had heard of a shuttle accident on the news-vids, earlier in the day. Multiple casualties. It hadn't dawned on him that if the Academy hospital was close, many of them would have been taken there.

McCoy entered the shower and Jim turned down the room's lights and waited.

When McCoy came out, he silently dressed in sweats. He turned to Jim.

"Jim?"

Jim scooted back on his bed, and patted the space beside him.

"Come and tell me."

McCoy did.

 

***

Starfleet Academy

Day 327

***

 

Leonard McCoy wolfed down the campfire meal Jim had prepared. On a rare three-days off from the Academy, Jim had talked him into a camping trip. In the wild. At Yosemite National Park. In April.

 _I should eat his portion as well,_ McCoy thought as he scraped the last of his cheese, faux-chicken/bacon and potatoes from his plate.  _The kid can cook, I'll give him that. But with the temperature dropping down tonight, and no Starfleet issued survival gear, I'm going to need the calories. We're going to freeze our asses off._

In the more remote part of the park, which allowed hike-in only, the hike hadn't been too bad, McCoy admitted. Since he'd started mandatory exercise classes, he was in the best shape he'd ever been. He'd even enjoyed it. They'd dressed for the hike for temperatures around 18 to 20 degrees Celsius during the day, which wasn't too bad when you were constantly moving and carrying large packs. But the nights could get down to 3 degrees Celsius in spots, and up the side of the hill Jim had chosen for the night, it was going to get colder.

_Besides, it'll be less food for the bears to come after. I don't care how close an eye the forestry service keeps on them, one could sneak up on us in the middle of the night._

"You liked it?" Jim asked as McCoy sucked the last bit of cheese off of his spoon.

"Best meal this month," McCoy admitted, "I could do that a couple times a week, if you get in the mood to start a fire in the dorms somewhere." He enjoyed Jim's pleased smile.

"And now, for dessert," Jim said as he wrapped some kind of dough around the end of two sticks, and set them over the fire.

"Not smores?" McCoy asked, getting his first whiff of cinnamon.

"Nah, too predictable. These are better. Cinnamon rolls on a stick. Just like ancient history."

"You think the pioneers had cinnamon rolls?" McCoy asked dubiously.

"Well, I doubt they had graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars, either," Jim said, then frowned. "At least, I don't think so. The dough was easier to carry."

McCoy went over to their tub of water and washed the dishes while Jim kept an eye on dessert. Tomorrow, McCoy would have to cook. He'd brought the ingredients for his family's special recipe, whiskey and beans. Which meant he had to save his whiskey stash for one more day.

_Too bad. A quick snort would help warm me up._

But it was just as well. Both he and Jim had pledged along with the new year to cut back on their drinking. McCoy suspected that Jim had been all gung-ho over the idea to keep McCoy from all the heavy drinking he'd done earlier in the year. The kid had had a point. McCoy needed to get a grip and move on from his divorce. What he was doing now, and would do in the future, was important.

_Wherever I'll be. Probably a research center somewhere. Maybe someplace where Jim could drop by once in a while, on whatever ship he gets a place on. No way that kid's going to stay planet-bound. Too much of the universe is calling his name._

McCoy dumped the now freezing water and looked around the dark of night. They'd hit a site with few other campers, and if there were any around they were keeping to themselves. If felt like they were on some other planet, one he hadn't visited very often. Camping had never been on his family's to-do list.

Sitting back down by the fire, McCoy accepted his cinnamon roll stick, discovering it was actually pretty good.

Finished, Jim rose and stretched. "Time to hit the hay?"

"As good a time as any," McCoy said, eyeing the tent Jim had set up with doubt. "It doesn't look like that's going to keep us safe all night."

Jim laughed. "It'll be safe, unless the mountain falls on us. And I think we'd have been told if that was in the cards."

"Still, it's gonna get cold. I'm going to have to sleep in my clothes," McCoy grumbled as he stood and watched Jim douse the fire after setting up the camp lamp, so they could see. "You should have let me get that portable heater and those better sleeping bags."

Jim shook his head. "Too much tech, Bones. We're on vacation from tech, remember? We're supposed to be roughing it, or what's the point?"

McCoy pointed to the lamp. "That's tech."

Jim smiled and shrugged. "But necessary. Programmable sleeping bags aren't."

"You're just wanting some practice for that survival class you've got coming up next semester," McCoy grumbled as he started putting their foodstuffs away.

"This? Bones, this is nothing compared to that class. Besides, practicing never hurts," Jim said. "Just because  _you_  get a deferral because of your medical background, doesn't mean you shouldn't practice as well. Could save your life someday."

"I still have to study for it," McCoy griped. "And do the beginner’s run. That's not exactly a deferral."

"Well, just be glad you aren't on the Command Track," Jim said. "From what I hear, the survival version for us is going to be a bitch and then some."

"I've heard worse than that," McCoy said, suddenly sober as he looked at Jim. "Jim, they've had cadets  _die_ on that test. Not in a few years, but still there were--"

"Accidents. Mistakes. Negligence," Jim interrupted, casually picking up the last of their camp debris and packing it to be carried out when they left. "Nothing will ever be 100% safe. They're trying to train us, not kill us. And we all signed waivers, remember? Shit's gonna get real when we graduate. We have to be prepared to take it seriously. And I'll be fine. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"Still..." McCoy said, uneasily as he looked at Jim. "You have to be  _careful_."

"I will," Jim promised him as he got into the tent. "I  _need_  that grade. I'm not looking to mess up."

"It's not  _your_  mistakes I'm worried about," McCoy muttered climbing into the small tent after Jim, the camp light filling the small space.

Jim had gotten everything ready while McCoy kept an eye on dinner. Inside McCoy found only one bed. Jim had sealed the two sleeping bags together, one for underneath and one on top. Jim was starting to undress, placing his folded shirt in the corner.

 _Oh, geeze,_ McCoy thought as he zipped up the tent flap behind him.  _I hope this doesn't mean he's going to be making a pass or anything, now that we're away from the city. Turning him down would be awkward._

The problem wasn't the idea of being propositioned, it was that he liked the kid.  _Really_  liked him. And turning him down was going to be hard and would probably get harder as their Academy training advanced. McCoy didn't even know if Jim remembered the blow job he'd offered him on his birthday.

It was already going to be hard enough after graduation, when they'd go their separate ways. Having chance meetings and sub-space communications in their future as ways to keep in touch sometime spelled the end of good friendships. McCoy wasn't looking forward to making that any harder or more complicated than it was already going to be. Assuming, of course, they didn't have a humungous fight which killed the friendship long before then.

And if that happened, he didn't want it to be an argument over sex.

Jim must have seen him pause, because he just shook his head and smiled. "Just for warmth, Bones."

That was all it took to dispel the awkwardness. Jim never lied to him.

Shedding most of his clothes, he crawled in next to Jim and got comfortable. They said their good nights and both slipped off to sleep pretty quickly.

The second night was just as warm and comfortable as the first.

If it was going to become a habit, McCoy decided he didn't mind it at all.

 

 

***

Starfleet Academy

Day: 461

***

 

McCoy was at the landing field when the two shuttles arrived with the students from the Command Track survival test. There were several medics and medical transport waiting as well. McCoy had just gone off duty when the message had come to the hospital that the 45-day survival test was being cut short at 32 days. There were injuries, and two deaths. He was pushed out of the office before he could hear any of the details. Technically, he wasn't allowed on the field, but he'd hitched a ride with one of the transport drivers, who'd assumed he had clearance to be there.

He stood with the others who waited solemnly while the two shuttles set down carefully. The first shuttle held the injured and the dead. They were all unloaded first. Several unloaded in grav-chairs. A few walking wounded, bandages decorating them here or there. All looked shell-shocked and exhausted. Grim and focused on just moving as they were told. The body bags were discreetly unloaded from the back, taken away quickly. There were enough medics there that he wasn't needed.

McCoy waited. He closed his eyes in relief when Jim step out of the second with a group of others. All of them looked the same. Dirty, tired, sunburned, worn out and grim. McCoy didn't move toward them. They were all lining up and McCoy realized they were being taken to their debriefing.

He stood there, watching them assemble themselves. Jim hardly looked up. He only glanced around him a few times, looking stunned. But McCoy saw the second Jim spotted him. Jim stared at him for a second, took a breath, and then nodded his way.

They all marched off quietly.

McCoy went back with the other medics, helping to get everyone inside the transports. He spent another two hours at the hospital until the shift managers shewed him away. McCoy knew what the Academy debriefings were like. He'd have been surprised if Jim had beaten him home.

It wasn't until three in the morning that Jim quietly slipped into their room. McCoy had only just lain down, he hadn't even tried to sleep.

"Jim?"

Jim stiffened in the dark.

"Bones."

McCoy could tell how exhausted Jim really was, just from that one word.

"You okay?"

Jim started to undress, letting his clothes lay where they fell.

"Yeah. Shower."

McCoy waited in the dark while Jim took a long shower. When he finally padded out, outlined by the dim light of the 'fresher's night lighting, McCoy could see how stiff and tired he was. And how thin.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Under orders. Can't."

McCoy could see Jim move toward his own bed, his body mostly hidden in the dark. Jim hesitated between McCoy's bed and his.

"Bones?"

Jim had said his name so softly McCoy almost didn't hear it.

McCoy moved over and turned back the covers. "C'mon. Get in."

Jim sighed, grabbed his pillow and climbed into McCoy's bed. Jim didn't have a lot of body fat to begin with, and in the dark McCoy could tell he'd lost quite a bit. He felt cold. McCoy moved closer.

McCoy didn't know when Jim fell asleep, but he was dead to the world and curled up next to McCoy at eight the next morning. McCoy had barely caught the alarm before it went off. He had to get to class. Couldn't afford to miss it, but really wanted to stay with Jim. But he knew Jim would sleep for many hours yet. And McCoy might be able to slip back during the lunch break and bring Jim something to eat. Something he wouldn't throw up, or that would be too hard on his system, if he hadn't eaten much in the last month.

He quietly slipped out of the room, leaving Jim to sleep.

 

***

Starfleet Academy

Day: 569

***

 

"Hey, Doc! You make house calls? 'Because I've got a  _hard_  problem you can treat!"

"Yeah, come on in, Rebowski," McCoy yelled back down the busy dorm corridor as he wiped the 'Bitchy Bottom' graffiti from his side of their room's nameplate. "I can amputate that for you. Put you out of your misery. It's not like you use it or anything."

Some of the passing dorm residents chuckled. Most of them had probably seen the graffiti earlier in the day. McCoy had no idea how long it'd been there. He'd been tempted to leave Jim's self-proclaimed "Terrific Top" in place. But seriously, the kid didn't need the advertisement.

Rebowski and his friends, all dressed for a night out, threw McCoy smiles as they passed.

"Don't bother, boys," a young-upperclassmen said with amusement as she came the other way, still in her Reds. "Doc's already taken. Although I think that their announcement is backwards. I'm sure there's a good reason Kirk calls him ' _Bones_ '."

McCoy flipped her the finger as the others laughed. "Jealous, Darlin'?"

"Constantly," she said with a smile as she continued to her room.

McCoy finished wiping the last of the letters off the wall. He'd have been more irritated if he and Jim hadn't finally had the conversation McCoy'd been dreading. He hadn't wanted to hurt Jim's feelings by rejecting his advances, but it was time McCoy had made the boundaries clear. The friends-with-benefits thing wasn't going to happen. It couldn't. McCoy didn't know how they could keep in touch once they graduated and went their separate ways. It was going to be hard enough, even without the sex that would complicate things. At least, it would on his side.

Giving the wall one more rub, he headed back inside and to his frightening pile of homework.

Now, maybe the hook-up comms would stop interrupting his study.

 

 

~~~

San Francisco

Academy Compound

Death +39 days

 

***

 

 

 

"C'mon, Bones, I'm fine," Jim huffed as he walked into his new room, provided by Starfleet. McCoy followed him inside. "They only kept me in the hospital for so long because they all want to see what happens to me because of Kahn's blood. I think they were all disappointed that I didn't turn into a monster or something."

"I'm sure they were hoping, but not really expecting," McCoy said. _I shouldn't tell him that he was lucky to be released at all._ _Between his blood and that of the little girl overseas, I know they were hoping to find that one or both would produce blood like Kahn's. I'd be more afraid for them both if they didn't already have a huge supply of that magic blood in the freezer._

McCoy looked around. He had his own room, down the hall, but hadn't been there very much in these last few weeks. So, McCoy was not surprised to see that Jim's room was just as sterile and cold as his was. Even the great view didn't make it someplace he'd want to spend a lot of time. Which is why he'd had Jim's things that had been salvaged off of the damaged Enterprise put into storage for Jim, and had Spock send down his personal items and clothing to his room. It'd be up to Jim on how much he wanted to unpack. It'd be almost a year before the Enterprise, a wounded bird in drydock, would be ready for re-commissioning.

McCoy went to stand by the window as Jim took a look around. He heard Jim take the short tour of the rooms behind him. It may not have been welcoming, but it was large for one person.

_A lot bigger than our dorm room. And a touch bigger than our cabins on the ship. He'll do fine here._

"Hey, my things are here!" Jim yelled from the bedroom.

"Spock had some of them shipped down," McCoy said, walking to the bedroom door. "Figured it'd help you get settled in quicker."

"I'll have to remember to thank him," Jim said, starting to unpack a box. "This is great! I don’t have to scramble for clothes for my date tonight."

"Date?" McCoy asked with surprise. "Jim, you _just_ got out of the hospital."

"Bones, I was ready weeks ago. You said so yourself." Jim smiled as he sorted the clothes he was pulling out of boxes. "It was getting to be like living in a prison. I was half afraid they’d try to keep me there forever, just in case I mutated or something."

"When did this happen?" McCoy asked. "And who's the lucky date?"

"Nurse Benjamin."

"The night nurse?"

"Yeah," Jim said happily. "I got antsy, not feeling sick anymore. She'd come by and keep me company when I couldn't sleep."

McCoy had seen the medical records. He'd seen that Jim had had some late nights, and a few times had offered to stay. Now he knew why Jim hadn't accepted his offer.

McCoy wandered back out into the living area.

_Why do I feel so disappointed? We've both been fighting for the last two weeks to get Starfleet Medical to certify him as healthy, and let him go. And it's not like I haven't seen him, practically every day. He's up, around and raring to get his life back. That's a good thing._

_Considering that he'd actually died, I have nothing to complain about now._

Behind him, Jim rattled on.

“Then this week I’ll be plenty busy with my debriefings and the meetings over the repair and upgrade of the Enterprise,” Jim said loudly through the doorway.  “I’ve been going crazy not being able to see the plans and all the new equipment we can get loaded to test out. Then there are those classes that I need to get started on. Since I’m grounded for most of the year I want to see if I can actually get my graduation certificate finished the old way. I mean, the honorary one was cool, but I was  _so close_  to finishing it in three years. I’d like to get it done before we start our five-year mission. I just hope that we can get most of the same crew back when the ship's ready to depart.

"A year is a long time for a lot of them," McCoy said. "You and I always need more training. Scotty will always certainly be around. And Spock can find things to do until the ship's ready to leave. But a lot of the other crewmen need the time in service to make rate. They'll want to keep busy and working. There won't be a ton of fill-in spots for them around here, anyway, since Starfleet likes to throw those to the newly graduated cadets. That way they get local experience before being ship assigned. Those with experience will be offered the first ship out."

"I know. But I can hope," Jim said.

McCoy didn't say anything, his eyes on the view.

_We were only on the same ship because I brought Jim on. Taking the CMO spot during the fight with Nero gave me a boost up on the list of assignment offers, and Jim had first choice of doctors. When he was stripped of Command, and Spock reassigned, there was no telling if Pike would have kept me on the Enterprise or not. Pike never did have those 'words' with me about sneaking someone aboard. He could have decided not to trust me, and had me reassigned and a new CMO put in place. I don't think I could have blamed him if he had._

_If Pike had lived, Jim would probably be out there now, without me._

_Why can't I just feel happy that he wants me back for the five-year mission?_

Jim came into the room, looking concerned. “Bones? Did you have plans for tonight?”

“Me? No, guess not.”

“We can do something tomorrow, right?”

“Maybe. Tomorrow I’m due back at Starfleet Medical for more debriefings,” McCoy said with a shrug. “The day after that I’m on my way to Pluto. Classified stuff. Unless Admiral Bellamy pulls some strings and gets me to Mars. He’s got something going on at the Phoenix Complex he keeps trying to pull me in on.”

“Yeah, no rest for us wicked, huh?” Jim said, eyes searching McCoy's face. He smiled. “Hey, look, maybe she has a friend she could comm tonight. We could double.”

“Nah, I’ll let you get to it,” McCoy said, turning to head for the front door. “I’m not up for a late night.”

“Hey,” Jim said with concern. “Comm me tomorrow, okay?”

“Let you know,” McCoy said, throwing Jim a smile as the hallway door slid open.

The further away he walked from Jim’s room, the worse he felt.

The next night found McCoy unexpectedly on his way on an earlier flight to Pluto and the  _Virus and Contagion Control Center_ to help with their surprise inventory.

He commed Jim. It was several days before he got a reply.

The delay bothered him.

 

 

***

San Francisco

Academy Compound

Death +208 days

 

***

 

 

Jim Kirk sat behind the desk in the small office at Starfleet's auxiliary building, not having the clout for a better one in the bigger, grander, main one. But he didn't mind. The atmosphere was a lot more casual in this building, the food good enough, and there was more mingling amongst the staff and the Officers during meal breaks. Jim was record-breakingly young for a Captain, and he didn't always feel like he was taken seriously among the brass, saving the planet or not. He liked it better here, where everyone could approach him, now knowing him enough to be certain he wasn't going to brush them off or bite their heads off for being lower ranks.

Which meant he got the better gossip during lunch breaks, which was an education on office politics all by itself. And after being on shore duty and in place for over five months now, it was something that made him feel as if he belonged to something once again.

His classes had been going well, although some of the upperclassmen had been a little shell-shocked to have someone with actual Command experience sit in. But Jim had wanted to attend in person when he could. He’d even been asked to substitute in some of the classes that found themselves short of teachers. Teaching had been fun, but Jim had always been glad to get back to all the reports on the Enterprise's repair and refit.

He’d even made a couple of trips up to the dry dock for Scotty to give him a tour of the repaired areas. They had a lot of ideas about the upgrade, and Jim had spent a lot of time on that paperwork.

All of which had filled a lot of days and many late nights.  But not enough of them. Even hanging out at his favorite bar didn't seem to fill the void, although he left with willing company for the night a few times a week. But there was always the empty room to come back to that seemed tired and bleak during the nighttime hours. He wasn't one to be comfortable sleeping at someone else's place. And he found himself less and less willing to bring sex partners to his room. It was awkward and uncomfortable when trying to get them to leave so he could sleep.

Jim glanced at the time.

_Bones is supposed to be getting in, in a few hours. I thought he’d call and confirm that I’m picking him up. He did get the message that he could stay with me for the next couple of days, before he heads up to the ship to check out the Medbay. I know he saw it._

Jim had been looking forward to seeing McCoy again. He hadn’t realized until they’d been sent their separate ways how spoiled he’d been to have his best friend with him through the Academy and past graduation. Actually having McCoy as his acting CMO? Practically an impossible thing to have work out considering McCoy hadn't actually graduated. Oh, he'd been lucky, like Jim had been, in that Starfleet had lost too many officers and didn't want to demote those who had stepped into those positions during emergencies. So, McCoy had been given an honorary degree as Jim had. Experience counted for a lot in Starfleet, and they always had classes to keep up with. Especially McCoy. So, he could filter the others in with his mandatory medical update packets. And they'd been damned lucky that the brass had been willing to keep a working team together, especially since many of the un-graduated lower ranks had had to finish their classes through sub-space in order to keep their positions.

Friendships in Starfleet were valued, but hard to keep. Old friends usually lost touch and new friends took their place. Any long-distance relationship was hard. But the distances in space travel, and Starfleet service, made it even harder. Jim had worked hard to keep in touch with McCoy. Especially since they’d missed out on hanging out and saying goodbye when McCoy had left Earth. McCoy did his part in answering, but there were times when one or the other was doing something classified, so no communications were allowed. They couldn't warn each other that those 'black hole' spots were coming up. They would each just go silent for a while. And there had been getting settled into the new office. Jim had found that some messages had automatically routed to his office, without him realizing it. That had slowed some of their conversations even further.

 _Somethings been going on with him for a while. He's been awfully terse. Even more than normal. Almost reluctant to talk. I know he's been on the run for months now, so maybe he hasn't made any new friends. He doesn't seem to be dating much,_ Jim thought.  _We need to find some way to hang out more. I miss him._

 _Which reminds me._ Jim pulled up the paperwork on crew assignments. Sadly, a lot of the crew had been reassigned. Some by choice and some because there wasn’t enough going on to keep them productive on Earth. A few seemed to have even left Starfleet. Not everyone had been able to get over the destruction and loss of life on the Enterprise, and some had lost faith in Starfleet.

_I can't blame them there. No one signed up for what we went through. To know the truth and have to live the lie about Marcus and his ship... that's a lot to ask. I'd have had second thoughts myself, if I wasn't certain that, somehow, some good can come from all that subterfuge. That I can help Starfleet be what it was meant to be from the inside, rather than the outside._

Since the five-year assignment was more than a lot of people really wanted on one job, the positions on the Enterprise had been re-opened by the brass. The old crew would have to re-apply for their old jobs. The good news was that Jim would get a say in all the assignment openings, which he could discuss with his department heads. And he could either handpick his entire crew, or let his department heads do it. Now, with about five months left before the Enterprise's scheduled re-commissioning, the applications were coming in. He needed to go through them all and pick out the best in each group, giving special consideration to those who wanted to return. He trusted Scotty, McCoy and Scott to fill out their own departments, and he would work with the other departments in going through the other applications.

Jim was waiting for the old crew's paperwork to come in before thinking too hard about the empty spots. Spock's and Scotty's had been the first names he'd officially reassigned. He was glad to see Uhura, Sulu and Chekov, as well as Abernathy, Pleiman, and several others had their applications in. Those were all easy spots to fill, and the several hundred waiting applications would take some time to go through and place. He'd started a file for those who were returning, so he could fill their spots faster. But something was nagging at him. He looked closer at his 'will fill' file.

_Where's Bones' application? Did I misplace it?_

Jim checked 'will fill' list twice, then went back through those from new crew hopefuls. Not finding it there, he went back and pulled up his computer backups, which held anything he trashed for six months. If he'd accidentally deleted it, it should be there. It wasn't. He contacted the building office staff, to have them look up the incoming message lists, to see if one from McCoy had come in through their system, starting from the day McCoy had left for Pluto. They found his private messages that had accidently been rerouted. But no application.

_We've been comming through my private number, not my office number. Did he send it to my room computer?_

Jim didn't think he'd have missed it if he had. He'd definitely check when he got back to his room.

_Does this have something to do with why he's not been wanting to talk much lately? He wouldn't want to move on, would he?_

The thought felt shocking. Jim had never questioned that McCoy would want to go on the five-year mission with him.

_I just assumed he would. I know that he hadn't originally planned to take a ship assignment. And later, when he talked about us serving together, I thought it was just wishful thinking. We both knew that getting the same ship right out of graduation would be up to luck. And then, when I got the Enterprise, he seemed glad to keep the CMO's job. We never really talked about it. But now, after the Kahn thing, maybe he's had second thoughts. Or a better offer._

The idea scared him. McCoy had mentioned several times during their time between Nero and Kahn that he'd always had offers for various planet-side jobs. Even a few from civilian companies, for when he left Starfleet. McCoy had seemed to shrug them off, not looking or acting like he was considering any of them. And while he still had another year of compulsatory service in Starfleet by contract, that didn't mean he didn't have numerous offers of planet-side assignments, or even other ships.

Jim pushed back in his chair, fingers drumming on his desk.

_We should have talked about this. Before he left. Or even while I was still trapped in that hospital. I didn't have any right to just assume that more trips out are what he wanted. Let alone five years of it. How can I blame him for not wanting to go through any of that again?_

Now restless, Jim got up to stand at his window. The city view wasn't the best. The setting sun was hidden behind various buildings, the sidewalks and streets crowded. Most would be going home for the night. Suddenly his room seemed a long way from his own home, which was the ship, McCoy, and his friends. Would it still be home without McCoy?

_I've considered him family for so long, I may have been taking him for granted. Forgotten how hard it is out there, and how his first choice in careers inside Starfleet had been research. He'd trained for emergencies and catastrophes, but that burns doctors out so quickly. Maybe the whole Marcus incident was the last he could bear. And he didn't want to tell me. Or, at least, not tell me over the comm._

_And what do I do if that's what he's coming back to tell me, to my face? It's the only way he'd do it. He'd hate to, but he would._

Jim watched as the light from the sunset he couldn't see played off the other buildings.

_I want him to be happy. If this is what he wants... then I guess I'll have to suck it up._

All Jim could do was to hope he was wrong.

 

***

 

McCoy sat across from the dinner table from Jim, feeling like he was drowning in silence. Jim had picked him up from the shuttle terminal, and had smiled and seemed cheerful as he suggested a late dinner out. McCoy had agreed. But it hadn't taken long for them to fall into an awkward silence over their meal. The kind of silence that felt unnatural for them.

 _God, what's wrong with us?_ McCoy wondered.  _Can't he just say whatever he needs to say out loud? Can't I? Four months now, and he's not accepted my application. I just figured he's not gotten to staffing yet. I don't even know when they do all that kind of stuff. But then to find that no one's been chosen for CMO, months after the main bridge crew has signed on? I mean, I was just a bit worried. But now, the way he's acting, it's like he's got something he wants to say, but not in public. Something he doesn't want to get into yet._

Then McCoy had an even scarier thought.

_Oh, **hell**. Maybe he's guessed what I've been trying to build up the balls to say, and that's his way of nipping it in the bud?_

McCoy finished his wine while Jim picked at his food. "Look, Jim, we need to talk."

Jim looked up from his plate, his eyes blank and a fake smile on his face. "Sure. Let's go."

McCoy got to the bill first, which seemed to be the wrong thing to do. Jim just smiled and nodded his thanks, but he seemed almost deflated by it.

The ride to Jim's room took a few minutes. Jim was still in the same quarters Starfleet had set aside for him in their off-campus amenities. McCoy idly wondered if Jim had unpacked much, and if the room looked homey. When entering the Academy with literally nothing but the clothes he wore, his ID and credit chip, it had taken Jim a few months to really spread out in their dorm room. But when he spread, he took over. Jim had always said he'd traveled a lot after he left home, and got good at having minimal possessions. He didn't like baggage.

 _Have I become baggage?_  McCoy wondered.  _If he's guessed at how my feelings have changed about him, how I want to cross that line, maybe he's realized that saying no to me would be a problem. Five years is a long time to know that someone wants you that way, and not be able to return the feeling. Maybe he's found someone on Earth, and it's serious. Or, maybe, he's found a better CMO, and wanted to tell me first._

The walk up to Jim's room was a quiet one. Once inside, Jim waved casually toward the sofa.

"Best pull-out model." Jim smiled. "I haven't tried it myself, but I figure if they brag about it in the room description, it can't be too bad. You can put your suitcase over on the desk. I don't really use it."

"Sure," McCoy said walking to the table. He set his case on it carefully.

_Well, maybe that sofa answers my question, and he knows what I want to talk about. At least about one of the subjects, anyway._

When he turned, he could see that Jim was waiting for him to start the conversation. McCoy sighed.

_I was the one who said we needed to talk. I guess it's up to me._

"Jim, listen," McCoy said, walking over to him, feeling awkward. He swallowed hard. "I know things change. Especially in Starfleet. Especially after all the things we've been through. There comes a time when it's natural to need to just... move on. I just want you to know I understand. If that's what you want, then I'll respect that."

Jim blinked then, as if he had to process what McCoy had said more than once.

"What  **I** want?" Jim asked, looking confused. "To move on?"

"Yes," McCoy steeled himself to just say it. "If you don't want me as your CMO, I'll understand. We can still be friends, stay in touch--"

"If I don't--?" Jim interrupted with a disbelieving laugh, and a look of shock. He stepped closer to grab McCoy's shoulders. "What? No!  _Of course_  I want you as my CMO! I thought  _you_ didn't want to come back to the Enterprise."

"Huh?" McCoy said, feeling confused himself. "But I... I thought you were going to tell me that's why you hadn't accepted my application."

"I thought you were going to tell me why you never sent one!" Jim exclaimed. "I  _never_  got an application, Bones! I've been holding the CMO position open for you. I didn't get worried until just recently, when our conversations started to stall. I was worried that you were coming here to tell me, in person, that you'd accepted another assignment."

"And I thought you..." McCoy's mind was in a whirl.  _Well, now I feel all kinds the fool. Why didn't I just ask him?_ "What the hell happened to it?"

"I have  _no_  idea," Jim said, his smile real this time. He gave McCoy's shoulders a squeeze before letting them go. "When did you send it? I've checked everywhere in case it got miss-filed or miss-directed to someone else."

"Just after I left for Pluto," McCoy said. "I didn't think much about it at first, because our comms have been spotty and we've hardly been able to talk all this time. We were out of touch for almost a month that one time. I just assumed I'd missed the acceptance letter I had to sign and send back, and it was on its way. It wasn't until I check the Enterprise's roster that I..." McCoy shrugged. "Well, I saw the slot still didn't have my name on it. I thought you wanted someone else there."

" _Never_ ," Jim said, putting his hand on McCoy's arm again.

"God, don't tell me it's still floating around out there? It's not in the wrong Captain's inbox is it? I don't want to end up on some freighter somewhere."

"Don't worry," Jim said with a happy laugh, his hand squeezing McCoy's arm tightly. "We're doing all the paperwork  _tonight_ , from  _here_. No one else is ever getting that spot. And I want the rest of Starfleet to know you're taken."

McCoy smiled with relief, which then turned to anxiety once again.  _Now's the time to tell him. Before we set out for so long. So that we both have an agreement before we leave. Give us time to adjust, whichever of us has to._

"Good to know. But... Jim? I do have something else I wanted to talk about."

Jim sobered, fast. "Bones? What's up?"

 "Well, it's just that... Jim? You  _died_." It wasn't what he'd meant to say, or how he intended to approach the subject.

"Yeah, I know," Jim said softly, his eyes studying McCoy. "I... I guess we never really had private time to deal with that. I wasn't thinking. You'd been around for weeks, and I just didn't realize that your duties, your obligations, would take you away so quickly. You were around so much during my recovery, I got spoiled. I mean, I knew..." Jim waved toward his head. "But I didn't really realize until you'd left..." Jim faltered and sighed.

"I wasn't in a good place, when I left," McCoy admitted, the scene in the Medbay, all of them crowded around the bodybag, flashing through his mind. It had been haunting him for months. "I saw you  _dead_ , Jim. I still have nightmares about that, even though I know you're alive and well. But... It has made me re-evaluate some things. My life. Yours. What's important and the price of losing it. So, I've been wanting to say... to ask..."

McCoy lost it. He lost every word he was going to say. Every calm, adult discussion he'd planned to have. His mind blanked, and Jim was so near.

Stepping forward to take Jim's face in both hands, McCoy moved in to kiss him.

It was almost a shock when their lips met. It was like coming home after a long trip, to something vital and necessary. Jim's lips were soft, warm and lush. A part of him panicked and pulled back, afraid he had overstepped. But Jim's arms were around him, pulling him close almost instantly. Then Jim kissed him back. And it was no sweet peck of greeting. Jim's lips opened and McCoy tasted him for the first time.

Fire flowed through and around him, and he fought Jim for control of the kiss as his mind burned with it. They took turns exploring each other's mouths, only stopping once to breathe when it had become necessary. Both moaned at the loss.

McCoy had his hands fisted in Jim's hair, keeping their faces together. Jim's breath was hot on his lips, his eyes deep black with desire and ringed with summer sky. Jim had somehow backed McCoy into a wall, his body hot and hard against McCoy's. McCoy's mind was almost dizzy with desire and all the new sensations. Jim was bigger, taller, stronger than any of his other partners. And male. So very, very male. He felt something wild in him fight to be let loose.

He let go of Jim's hair and reached for his ass. Digging his fingers into the two mounds of flesh, he squeezed hard and pulled them even closer together.

Jim moaned, and McCoy felt the urge to devour him and be devoured, until there was only one being left in the room.

"Changed your mind," Jim said huskily, touching his forehead to McCoy's. "About the friends-with-benefits thing."

"Apparently," McCoy said around a randy smile, pushing his now hard cock against Jim's body. "Had nightmares about you after I left. But had wet dreams too."

Jim's smile was evil itself. " _Couldn't_  have had more than I had. Been a bitch trying not to go there."

"Oh, we're going  _there_ ," McCoy promised huskily, finding he wanted all of it. Everything. "You talked big at the Academy, about being a terrific top?  _Prove_  it."

Jim smiled, and kissed him again. Then before he knew it they were almost tearing each other's clothing off, flinging them away, as they tried to keep the kiss while they moved toward Jim's bedroom. Newly uncovered skin touching uncovered skin sizzled and sparked when they connected, pushing them to the bed instead of slowing them down.

As they moved, McCoy found he couldn't keep his hands off of Jim. He now could touch places he'd only touched when Jim was in pain. Hurting. And the rush of touching Jim's beautiful,  _healthy_  body was just driving him crazy for more. He was now so hard he was leaking.

Jim tackled him near the bed, and they landed on it in a mostly naked pile. Jim laughed as he pushed away from McCoy. He first pulled off McCoy's socks and tossed them, and then his own, finishing the job of getting them naked. Then Jim dove toward McCoy's crotch. On his back, McCoy groaned and spread his legs wide, giving Jim full access.

When Jim took him in his mouth, McCoy's body jolted, and he saw stars. Jim's mouth was impossibly hot, and he worked his tongue under and around McCoy's glans, creating hard spikes of pleasure that arched McCoy's back. McCoy's hands knotted the sheets between his fingers as Jim's hand played with his balls, slowing rolling them and stroking the underside.

"God! Jim! Too much," McCoy gasped when he almost lost it with a spectacular swipe of Jim's tongue. "Too soon!"

Jim pulled off of McCoy, making a popping sound when the let go. He laughed evilly. "All night. We have  _all_  night."

When Jim sucked him in again, it blew the world away.

McCoy gasped and overloaded. His body clenched as he came in Jim's mouth.

 _Oh, God. I think I might have passed out,_ was his first coherent thought as his brain came back on-line. He didn't realize until afterward that he'd missed seeing Jim's face during those final seconds.

Jim, all pale and patched with the flush of desire on his face, his chest, was watching him with a smile that spoke of no good. "Liked that?"

McCoy could only nod, his heart pounding so hard it was almost too hard to breathe around it.

"Then you're gonna love this."

Jim moved over to the nightstand, and dug out a small tube and a tiny spray bottle. McCoy recognized them. One was lube, the other was a spray that covered the penis with a microscopic layer of plastic, for safe sex. That wasn't what he wanted.

"No," McCoy rasped. "You don't have to use the sheath. I know you're careful. I am too."

Jim hesitated. "You're sure?"

"This time, just you," McCoy insisted, knowing that they'd have to be careful, and stay safe in the future. There would be others, for them both, he knew. " _Nothing_  between us."

Jim nodded and smiled as he tossed the spray back into the drawer. "Doctor's orders."

"I'm ordering you to fuck me," McCoy said, almost pleading. He'd been wanting that for a while. To have Jim inside him, living and moving and working to make him feel good. And he wanted to see Jim's face, when he came. He wanted to see Jim lose it over him.

Jim grabbed a pillow, and helped place it under McCoy's ass, while keeping one hand on his chest. McCoy could see Jim's erection bob with his heartbeat, the almost shake of Jim's fingers as he fought to control himself. Soon, Jim's fingers were circling his anus, spreading the lube inside and massaging it in.

"Damn, Bones. You're so tight!" Jim said with a leer. "Been a while for you?"

"Seems like forever," McCoy hissed as Jim hooked a finger, reaching places McCoy hadn't had touched since, well, since he and his ex-wife had experimented all those years ago. She hadn't been into it and he hadn't enjoyed it, so they had just done other things.

He didn't want Jim to know he'd never been with a man. He didn't want Jim to slow down even more or even think about being careful.

As it was, Jim did take some time, and McCoy found himself impatient. McCoy leaned back and relaxed. He knew the procedures, was familiar with the advice on how to keep from clenching both the voluntary and involuntary muscles. Jim started rubbing his stomach with one hand while preparing him with the other. Then Jim's hand moved down to McCoy's cock, which started to fill again. It was good, and he let his body respond. But he wanted more.

"Fuck me, damn it!" McCoy demanded. "I'm ready!"

He didn't know if he was, but he didn't care. He wanted Jim now, more than anything ever in his life. Whatever happened during those five years out, he'd at least have this.

Jim positioned himself, and McCoy took a breath to relax. As the head of Jim's cock pushed its way in, McCoy gulped and held his breath at the stretch. He pushed down, helping to open himself up. Just when he thought he'd have to stop him, McCoy realized the head of Jim's cock was in.

 _No bigger,_ he told himself. _Just deeper now._

The stretch was incredible, the pain not as bad as he'd feared. The intense sensation of Jim's cock, as it moved slowly forward inside him, was new and intriguing in the way it caused nerves he wasn't used to paying attention to now demand more contact.

Jim had paused and leaned down, stretching to reach Bones' mouth. They kissed hungrily, and McCoy could feel the tremble of his body through his hands on Jim's ribs.

"Wanted... wanted to make you cum again," Jim huffed across McCoy's cheek. Every place their skin touched was hot. "Don't think... don't think I can last."

"Fuck me." McCoy kissed Jim's cheek. When Jim looked at him, he was blushed bright, his eyes hooded with lust. His eyes were impossibly dark, and the blue ring around them almost neon. "We have  _all_  night."

Jim's hips flexed, and he slid in up to his balls. McCoy gasped and moved to grip Jim's arms. Jim took a ragged breath, and started to fuck McCoy in earnest.

It was deep, and wonderful, and unexpected, and all kinds of things all at once. McCoy stopped thinking, and let the sensations take over. He let Jim set the pace, feeling Jim making all his nerves hum with pleasure. The pace quickened, the angle changed, and flashes of electricity washed through him in waves as Jim found his sweet spot. Then he found it again and again. Jim's face was one of concentration and bliss, his eyes swollen and half close, as he lost contact with the world. 

_I can do that to him. He can look like that for me. For **me**._

Just when McCoy thought he would overloaded with it, Jim's rhythm faltered. With a helpless grunt, Jim seated himself in as far as he could go, and his body locked up over and around McCoy in orgasm as he came deeply inside him. McCoy saw Jim grimace with the force of it, and then drop his head down over McCoy's chest and gulp air. Then, slowly, Jim relaxed, and his body fell against McCoy's.

McCoy ran his hands through Jim's hair, soothing him, feeling the excited beat of his heart calm. Feel his breathing slow. After a few minutes, Jim gathered himself up, pushed up and away from McCoy, and carefully pulled out. Then Jim fell on top of him, large, heavy, but comforting.

"God," Jim said softly into McCoy's neck. "I thought that would never happen."

"Me either," McCoy said softly as he rubbed Jim's back. "Long overdue, I guess."

"Or, maybe, right on time," Jim said with a chuckle. "This is  _us_ we're talking about. It's not like we're on a timetable." He looked up at McCoy. "You okay? I know it's been a while, so I tried to take it easy. That didn't last long." Jim gave him an apologetic smile.

"Guess we need practice," McCoy said with a teasing smile, then he grew serious. "It was  _great_ , Jim. Because it was  _you_. Because it was  _with_  you. If it's like that ever again, I'll be one satisfied bossy bottom."

Jim smiled, then leaned in to kissed him. "I'm glad. But we'd better get cleaned up."

They both headed toward the ‘fresher, McCoy moving carefully as he cataloged what was and wasn't protesting. He didn't care if his ass turned black and fell off, it would have been worth it. They used the facilities, then decided to shower together.

They started out separately, then McCoy turned to soap Jim up, and Jim seemed to zone out as McCoy massaged the soap into him. McCoy loved every minute of it, finally being allowed to touch Jim in a way that he really hadn't before. Not like this. Not when he could feel Jim's living, healthy body under his hands. Then Jim returned the favor.

It was early morning when they both fell into the re-made bed, sofa long forgotten. Jim curled up against McCoy, as he'd done before. When McCoy had signaled for him to come closer, Jim draped himself over him, nuzzling his nose into McCoy's neck.

"What time do you have to leave tomorrow?" Jim whispered. "I need to be at my desk at eight, for incoming calls."

"I'm expected on the ship at nine," McCoy murmured.

Jim set his alarm to go off at six. That way they could have breakfast together while McCoy officially filled out another application for the CMO position on the Enterprise on his PADD. He could send it to Jim's room computer, which would be accepted and the offer letter sent to McCoy's PADD. McCoy could then sign it and send it to Jim's office computer. All while sitting next to each other. Neither one of them wanted to take any chances on this application getting delayed or lost.

Even sharing the same room while McCoy was on Earth for the next two days didn't mean they'd get to see each other. Their schedules changed, sometimes on an hourly basis. But, hopefully, they'd both have tomorrow night together before McCoy had to leave again.

They kissed good night, both went silent as sleep came. McCoy felt Jim go first, as he completely relaxed and his breathing evened out, still pinning McCoy down to the bed.

 _I just hope this wasn't a mistake,_ McCoy thought drowsily.  _I guess I can take five years of seeing him with other people. Flirting and hooking up. As long as he comes back to the ship in one piece, and he's happy. Maybe, by the time he finds someone to settle down with, I'll have figured out how to let him go._

He doubted it would be easy. But for nights like this, he was willing to try.

 

 

 

~~~~~End Intermission~~~~~

 

 

Thirteen Days after the Accident

 

 

Captain James T. Kirk walked slowly down the corridor to his cabin after another set of Medbay treatments and tests, his husband behind him. He was trying to look dignified in his black under tunic and buzz cut. He'd refused to wear his Medbay robe in the hallway, but didn't feel right wearing his Command gold. Spock was still Acting Captain, and Jim didn't want to have McCoy watch him any closer. His husband was afraid that putting on 'the colors' would encourage him to misbehave and push his recovery.

Jim had to admit, he could be right.

The crew nodded respectfully, or greeted him cordially, as they passed. They meant well and tried not to stare, but he knew he still looked pretty messed up. With the new skin firmly in place, the edges were still a bit swollen and raw, the new skin not yet quite the same color as the old and his hair barely stubble. His hands still tended to curl up, the normal position for fingers at rest and he still held his arms and shoulder stiffly. From the back he knew he looked like a patchwork doll. From the front his face looked shiny and lopsided, with one missing eyebrow.

As soon as Jim got back to their quarters and McCoy left him alone, the one he had left was going to go missing as well. It was just too weird to have only one.

He sighed as he got through the doorway and the door closed behind him.

"Now, don't forget," McCoy said as he steered Jim toward the desk. "Don't overdo it! You pull those new muscles, and I won't have an ounce of sympathy for you."

"It's just reading reports," Jim promised. "I'm not going to run laps."

"Or type," McCoy warned as he helped Jim sit. "Then it's on the couch or the bed until I get home. I'd stay, but I have to--"

"Oh,  _God_ , Bones!" Jim said with frustration. " _Don't_  hover. Go  _back_ to work. I'll be fine until your shift is over."

McCoy glared down at him, arms crossed. "It hasn't even been two weeks since the accident. You're not yet--"

"Two weeks tomorrow," Jim said shortly. "Bones, it's not the recovery that's going to drive me crazy. It's the forced vacation. I need  _something_  to do! I need to get back to my chair."

"Then you'll have to behave yourself," McCoy warned. "Tomorrow, I pull you in to replace that bad patch of skin on the side of your head, five more days of rest and muscle therapy, good readings on those healed nerves, and you can start light bridge duty.  _Five_ days, that's _all_  I'm asking. So, don't overdo the desk work."

"Well, since you don't have to replace that bad patch," Jim said casually, "Then that's four days, right?"

"What?" McCoy's eyebrows crowded each other in his confusion. "Unless you want to start dying it, I need to--"

"I'm keeping it," Jim said, typing carefully on his desk to bring up his monitor and keyboard.

"You're keeping the grey?"

"It's  _white_ ," Jim replied, typing in his request for the last two week's datapacks from Starfleet to be routed to his cabin. "Grey hair is brought on by age. My stripe is white, due to Albinism. You said so. So, it's  _white_."

With all the other things they'd been keeping an eye on, it wasn't until the stubble on Jim's head had grown in just enough to be barely visible that they'd spotted it. The white strip, two inches wide from his left temple only to narrow down to nothing at the center of the back of his head, had no color. The hair was healthy and would grow normally. But for some reason had produced no eumelanin or pheomelanin. Since McCoy had laid down the skin-jell in straight lines over the new muscle, the bad cells had multiplied and set in a straight line. Then, when instructed to be scalp hair, the bad spot had been clumped together and was almost ruler straight.

"But it'd just be another day to take it out and set up another round of skin jell--"

"No," Jim said, smiling up at McCoy. "I'm keeping it."

McCoy blinked in confusion. "But--"

"Do you think it will make me unattractive?" Jim asked innocently. "Make me look older? You won't want me if I look too old?"

"Of course not!" McCoy replied, scowl appearing and hands on hips. "You  _know_  I love you no matter what you look like. I think we've been over this before."

"We have," Jim agreed, nodding. "Look, Bones, while I appreciate your skill, I just..." Jim sighed, not sure how to explain it to his husband.

McCoy pulled his desk chair out to the side of Jim's desk and sat down. "Work on explaining it to me."

Jim sat back trying to think of the words. McCoy was watching him closely. "Bones, we _all_  have scars, even if no one sees them. All the things we do in life, all the horrible things we fight so hard to live through... they mark us. All those dreams we both remember sharing after the accident? They're all about the scars and marks we carry up here." Jim tapped his head. "And scars are a sign of winning the ultimate game.  _'I have gone through something terrible and survived._ ' Whether it's skin scars, or losing an arm, leg or eye... they're like a map of our lives. There's something honorable about the marks we carry of our experiences. To be reminded that we've fought to live another day."

"And you're saying that I'm doing a bad thing, by taking away your scars?" McCoy asked with a frown as he leaned on the desk.

"No! Not at all," Jim said, reaching out to put a hand on McCoy's arm. "I appreciate the work you do. And I understand why it means a lot to you to get me back to original specs. But there're times I just want to keep a reminder of what I've been through. And this stripe is sort of a nod to all that we've gone through up to this point of my life. Like the tip of the iceberg. There's always going to be a lot of my history outsiders will never see, but that I carry. Just a natural part of my growing older."

McCoy narrowed his eyes and sat back, studying Jim. Then, his eyes widened as he realized something.

"You said  _stripe_. Oh, my God, Jim. You think you've got a  _racing_  stripe!"

"You could call it that," Jim said with a grin. "And since it is, technically, my natural color now, there's nothing in the regs the brass can quote to make me change it."

McCoy shook his head and rubbed at his face in obvious disbelief.

 _Time to pull out my trump card,_ Jim decided.  _Kill two birds with one stone._

"Look at it this way," Jim said, with a sideways glance at McCoy as he turned back to his screen. "I keep the racing stripe and you can stop plucking those grey hairs out of your temples."

McCoy looked up sharply, his eyes widened. "What? How did--"

"Bones, my fondest wish is to see you with a head full of grey hair someday. Just like David. I'm looking forward to it."

"But how did you  _know_?" McCoy asked.

"I've had some hints and just guessed about the temples," Jim said happily. "But now that you've all but admitted to it, I put in my vote as your husband that you leave them be."

McCoy sighed. "And what hints would those be?"

Jim smiled evilly. "Let's just say that as your loving husband, I have the advantage over you in some areas. There are a few places on you, Bones, that only **I** can see. You're starting to go grey one hair at a time. And I'm not talking about the hair on your head."

McCoy flushed, looking sheepish.

"You keep yours, I'll keep mine, and we'll welcome the rest as they come. Deal?"

"Fine," McCoy said shortly, getting up and shaking his head. "But only because I have to choose my battles. You can have this one."

"I'll take that as a win," Jim said with a wink at McCoy. He then turned back to work.

McCoy left for MedBay, muttering to himself.

Jim chuckled, finally feeling that things were getting back to normal.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this isn't too choppy, but I wanted to visit their academy days and their First Time. And 1) I didn't want to do timetravel or dreams to do it. Nor 2) make it a prequel to "Crawling Home". I don't want it to be the first of the series that readers come across. I think the references mean more to those who've hung on to the series this long.
> 
> For some trivial trivia, according to my timeline... (And, damn, how I need a timeline. And there I thought the first would be a one-shot story.) The guys were in the "friends with benefits" stage for five months and 22 days until the first story, "Crawling Home". When they became an official couple. And, yes, episodes have exact dates now, even if I'm not fond of using them in my stories. I have to know, if no one else needs to.
> 
> And as for Jim and his racing stripe and McCoy's natural progression into a David-like status? What can I say? I adore some grey in a man. My Dear Hubby has almost as much as I have, and it's totally hot. Believe me. : )


End file.
